Stabbed
by Sweet Ginger Snap
Summary: In which Arthur makes a dreadful mistake, and Morgause is pleased. Violence. Post season 3.
1. Prelude

Morgause stood strong, a warrior's stance, with arm outstretched and fingers curled into rigid claws. Her other arm gripped a bloody blade which glowed with an eerie red light. Her hair was matted, more brown and rust-colored than blonde at this point. Blood caked at her chapped lips, which split again in a joyous sort of shock. Her enemy had fallen before she had the chance to mutter a single word!

Across the forest clearing, littered with scarred and smoking trees, and men in no better state, bleeding and dying, some smashed into rocks, others smoldering in their armor, there stood a figure tall and formidable. With a flex of tense muscles, he pulled the sword out from his enemy's back and watched with a vicious sort of pride as the sorcerer crumpled, his dark robes obscuring his face even in death. Arthur hefted his sword and raised his gaze across the field to Morgause. Wide-eyed, she stood frozen, her next words caught behind her lips. Arthur figured she must be shocked at how he had so easily felled her ally, and he decided to take advantage of this momentary reprieve by running towards her, sword at the ready. However, before he could get within ten feet of her, she seemed to come back to herself, and quickly shouted a shielding spell, which Arthur slammed against. He somehow managed to keep his footing. Without losing momentum, he began slashing at the shield with his sword, furiously.

Morgause bared her teeth in a triumphant grin, shouting at the fool of a Prince, "It is no use, Pendragon! Do you think a mere sword can possibly win against magic? You are powerless against me!" Arthur continued his attack of the shield, sparks flying from the metal. The shining membrane about her refused to yield. Morgause responded with a spell that threw him to the leaf-littered earth. "You will pay for all those crimes you have committed against my kin!" Power rippled about her, eyes burning golden. And she grinned a pretty grin which did not really seem to match her face at all. She raised her hand towards him, "What a weak little thing you are, after all." Small flames began to dance about her fingers.

Arthur grit his teeth and gripped his sword, eyes not leaving the witch as he thought to his knights strewn across the clearing, crumpled pell-mell, some crippled, some already dead, and all to fight but three sorcerers. One sorcerer was Morgause, who stood before him with a mad sort of glee on her face. The other was his _sister_, (it pained him to even acknowledge that fact), the traitorous Morgana, who had disappeared somewhere. He dreaded to think where. He hoped, with a knot in his stomach, that Camelot was safe, that his father was safe. The last sorcerer was the man he had stabbed. As the man had turned to help Morgause, Arthur had rushed forward, his sword gleaming as it breeched the flesh of the sorcerer. The man fell, magic words dying halfway upon his lips. Blood quickly stained the dark robes he wore even darker. Normally, Arthur would have qualms about stabbing a man in the back, but Arthur had no moral code against sorcerers, especially in the heat of battle when time was of the utmost essence. Not when his people were in danger.

"Weak?" growled Arthur, his limbs screaming at him in protest to continued movement as he stood again. "A sorcerer lies dead by my sword, yet you still claim I cannot win against magic! You speak nothing but lies, witch!" His feet slid into sword-stance, ready to lunge or defend should she attack. But she didn't attack. In fact, she lowered her hand and her eyes slid back to blue. She began to laugh, heartily, as if she couldn't contain herself any longer. Arthur tried to quench the sickening feeling spreading in the pit of his stomach. "I killed your ally! Yet you laugh?" He must control the anxiety bubbling in him. Arthur grit his teeth some more.

Morgause managed to overcome her fit of mirth and stood tall again, back straightening in some semblance of dignity. She looked over at the man who lay strewn in dark robes, which stood out amongst the red cloaks of Camelot, and spoke, "He was no ally of mine. I was about to kill him, when you came in and did the job so nicely for me. I only wish I could have seen his face, if he had known it was you who killed him! To die in such ignorance, it was better than he deserved," she deliberately turned her gaze back towards Arthur, who stood powerlessly outside of her shield, and who astutely kept his gaze on her, despite the desire to look back at the dead sorcerer, "You don't even know what I'm talking about do you? Oh, this will be fun!"

He made to surge at her, but by just a word, he had been frozen in place, unable to move any of his limbs. She flicked her wrist, and barked a word, and the figure rose into the air, robes fluttering about his body. Another flick, another word, and he began to drift towards the two. Only his hand could be seen, hanging from the fabric, thin and pale and limp. Arthur held his breath, but he didn't know why. When the man finally got to Morgause, he began to fall, but she grabbed the front of his robes, and he hung from her. Arthur could hear a muffled cough come from the man. Morgause seemed to get only happier.

"He lives! But only just. He will know the face of his traitor. And then…" she trailed off and a gleam came into her eye. "What a marvelous opportunity I have before me." She whispered snake-like words laced with magic and she let the figure go. He fell in a heap and curled into a ball, but now Arthur could see him breathing and shaking. "Welcome back, Emrys," said she. She let him hack for a few seconds before she hauled him up again, this time by the back of the neck, quick and cruel in her movements, and ripped the hood away from his head. Arthur gasped. If he hadn't been frozen, he may have fallen to his knees in shock.

There hung Merlin, in the witch's talons, looking lifeless but for the unsteady heaving of his chest. He coughed again, flecks of blood adorning his chin, before he weakly and slowly opened his eyes. Dull blue eyes shifted hazily until they met Arthur's. "…'live… you're… a-" he coughed again, "Arth…" he could barely articulate, but there was relief in his voice.

Arthur tried to contain the horror he was feeling.

"Behold the face of your murderer, boy!" Morgause had a manic tone to her voice, but Merlin didn't seem to hear what she said. He hadn't even realized he was being held by her before she spoke, let alone that she was there at all.

Things happened very quickly after that. Merlin's eyes glowed golden and the sky turned dark. The atmosphere rumbled, Morgause screamed, and Arthur was released from his binding. Morgause's eyes glowed as well and she shouted a string of powerful words, "Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!" Wind whipped around the pair, and both disappeared.

Arthur scrambled to his feet, but stood alone in the dark forest, his knights spread out around him.

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><p>AN: I'm not sure if I want to continue this. Large stories are daunting to me. However, I do have a rough plot, so if there's enough desire for it, I'll continue the story- though I'll definitely be on the lookout for a beta, if that's the would be lovely!<p> 


	2. Of Dreams

AN: So, I've decided to continue this. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm so grateful! Concrit welcome- especially until I find a beta. The chapters will not be in chronological order.

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><p>Merlin's eyes flickered open. He was surprised to find that he was already standing… he had never slept like that before. The disorientation that accompanied his waking caused him to sway and topple over. Merlin braced himself, but the impact never came. His limbs sank softly into the fine white sand that spread away from him to the horizon. Merlin furrowed his brow in confusion. Where was he? He stood, and the sand that had collected in the folds of his garments poured out silently.<p>

There was nothing but sand and sky. The sand rolled out like an ocean, endless crests and waves distorted the landscape. The sand was crystalline in color like salt. Maybe it was salt. An ocean deprived of water? No water. Well, Merlin wasn't thirsty, which wasn't very reassuring, but he had that consolation at least. For now. The sky was a stark gray, endless. Merlin couldn't even make out the outlines of clouds- which he assumed must be there. How else could it be so completely abysmal? Then, he chided himself: for all he knew, he was in some mystical realm where the sky was always gray. Right. That was a possibility.

So, how did he get here? And more importantly, how could he get out? Merlin pivoted around, circling at least twice, looking for any clue, _anything_ that might explain his situation. His efforts only served to bury his feet in the sand. Merlin looked about helplessly and called out, in voice and mind, "Hello?" The air was dead. Not even an echo answered back to him. "Is there anybody out here?"

Anxiety gripped his heart. He took a shaky breath. How had he gotten here? Why couldn't he remember? Was he trapped here?

No, he couldn't be. He had always gotten himself out of strange situations before. This was no different. (Merlin knew he was fooling himself. There was no lock to break this time.) He must be here for a reason. He just had to figure out what that reason was. There was nothing for it. So, Merlin began walking, leaving behind messy footprints in the sand. After what seemed like a ridiculously long time to Merlin, he stopped, frustration building to couple his anxiety. The scene had not changed, except for the long, thin trail of footprints behind him. Merlin collapsed onto his knees, which sunk into the sand. Merlin thought he could rather learn to hate the sight of sand. At that moment, something changed on the horizon.

A brilliant green orb began to emerge on the edge of the horizon, shining so brightly that it stung his eyes to look at it. It was beautiful. The color wavered slightly, as if the orb were not completely corporeal. It lit up the gray sky. Though still smothered with heavy clouds, near the orb the sky shaded a shifting gradient of white to yellow and orange, to a deeper maroon, which faded back to the suffocating gray in the distance. A few seconds passed and the orb rose higher, losing it's green hue. That's when Merlin realized he was staring at the rising sun. It took his breath away. The whole sky spread a clear blue, clouds retreating from the rising sun and dissipating.

He was so distracted that he did not immediately realize the breeze that had begun to blow. It was blowing towards the sun… East, he figured. That was a direction, if any. Merlin levered himself onto his feet and continued his trek towards the horizon. The wind picked up, guiding him, encouraging him. A bit of weight left his heart at that. The colors in the sky made him feel much less dismal, though he still was sick with worry. Perhaps he was meant to be traveling this way? The more he walked, the greater the wind blew. Were those voices he heard in the wind, calling out to him? Or was he just going mad in his solitude? "Hello?" he called out, desperately. "Arthur?" Merlin turned to look back, searching and combing with his eyes across the dunes, but the wind whipped up the sand, obscuring the world. Merlin flung his arm before his face, trying to keep the sand from biting his eyes.

_Do not look back. _The wind had become violent, pushing and shoving, and Merlin stumbled forward. "Arthur!" Merlin cried out, and he tore his gaze away from the waves of sand. He looked at the blinding sun before him. _This is your destiny._

Merlin's next step plunged his foot in the sand to the knee. His cry of surprise could not be heard over the roaring, torrential winds. He tried to pull it out, but his other foot slid in as well. Stark terror hit him. He began to babble protests and pleas, spells and curses, but nothing could stop his sinking. The sand around him, grain by grain, turned a bright blood red. The deeper he sank, the further it spread, until he was chin deep. The sun blazed angrily above him, reflecting off of the bright red sand that covered the world. And then he was completely consumed by it, and he was lost in darkness.

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><p>"<em>Mer<em>lin!"

Merlin jerked as a sharp whap hit him on the head. He winced and turned a glare to the offending party. Prince Arthur stood rigid with a scowl on his face, grinding out, "_Finally_. Quit daydreaming and pack up camp. We're leaving," before striding off to talk to one of the knights.

"Prat," Merlin mumbled as he stood and began picking up the various bowls and utensils around where the patrol party had taken lunch. Uther had been ordering patrols on the borders of Camelot ever since the departure of Morgana. Merlin didn't know what good that could possibly do; in fact, it only served to spread out the army. But clearly, Merlin was not in charge. As for Arthur, he did not tend to join these patrols- Uther had become protective of his son and only heir. However, Arthur had managed to convince the King to let him join this one. But no amount of prodding on Merlin's part could get the Prince to reveal how he had convinced the King. Something about duty and securing the confidence of the people… or maybe it was the time-old excuse of going on a hunt? Right, the former was the _real_ excuse. Times had been very tense in Camelot since the brief reign of Morgana. Arthur explained to Merlin (with much exasperation and a needlessly biting tone) that the patrols were some sort of tactic to restore the citizen's confidence in their rulers.

Still, if they wanted to put on a show to inspire confidence in the people, surely patrolling was one of the least effective means of accomplishing that goal. Even a tournament would work better. Unless Uther actually thought patrols were necessary… for protection or something. What did they expect to find? Bandits would steer clear of this amass of knights, but what if they encountered a sorcerer? They stood no hope. Well, except for Merlin, but Uther didn't know that. Merlin allowed himself a small smile and settled all the various utensils and mess kits back into his saddle bags.

"Stop smiling like an idiot and hurry up, _Mer_lin," groused Arthur as he clicked forward towards the boy on his horse looking for all the world like an arrogant noble. Which Merlin rather thought he was, responding with a touch of annoyance, "Look! I'm already done!"

"What's this then?" said Arthur, hoisting his used bowl.

Merlin scowled and snatched it away, "Well, how am I supposed to clean it if you never give it to me?"

A few more bickering words were exchanged before the patrol group set off again. The knights mainly ignored the Prince and his servant, keeping their opinions to themselves, except for Gwaine- the only round table knight to come on this patrol except for Leon (who took in the scene with a stoic expression, but an amused twinkle in his eye). Gwaine just chuckled warmly and rode over to Merlin. "So," he jested, "How long have you two been married, then?"

Merlin took it like the joke it was and smiled again, deciding to play along (the Prince was in ear-shot after all), "Oh, about three years now, give or take a few months. You wouldn't believe the things he has me do!"

Gwaine took on an expression of commiseration, "Like what? Clean his chambers for him?"

"Oh, more than that," returned Merlin, "I have to pick out his clothes-"

"And put them on him?" Gwaine widened his eyes in mock-horror.

"Polish his armor-"

"And his sword?" he snickered.

"Bring his food-"

"Do you feed it to him?"

"I-" Merlin started, but was interrupted by Arthur, who had decided enough was enough, "If you want more chores Merlin, you only have to ask," and he grinned menacingly to which Merlin grumbled, and Gwaine laughed heartily. "Now," Arthur sobered, "Pay attention. We are on a patrol, if you haven't forgotten."

The group rode in silence and Merlin's thoughts were allowed to wander back to the strange dream he'd had two nights ago. Gaius had finally been forced to shake his shoulder to wake him up, as calling his name had done no good. His mentor was probably still worried about him. As soon as Merlin had woken, he had taken one good look at the sun shining through the window and bolted, thinking of how pissed Arthur would be at his tardiness, shouting only "Sorry, Gaius! Later- I promise!" Of course, he had forgotten that he would be going on patrol… so now Gaius would have to wait even longer to hear from him. Merlin felt a bit guilty about that, but what else was he supposed to do? Arthur was uncompromising.

Merlin sighed and looked out at the forest. It was so different from the sands he had seen. Forests were normal. Merlin saw forests all the time. Tall trees stood around him, limbs reaching up to the blue sky and sprouting peacefully waving green leaves. Their roots wound around the floor and into the earth, making the landscape uneven. It was covered by other smaller plants and flowers as well as old sticks and leaves. And the forest was hardly quiet. Sweet birds called to one another; little animals scurried around the trees and rustled in bushes. Harts and boars, as well as other large game, hid further in its depths. The forest was nothing like the land in his dream. That place was foreign and empty. Quiet and devoid of life. Unreal, even. Merlin didn't want to admit it, but that place frightened him. It had made him alone, consumed him, and yet…

The sun that had risen. It had been so beautiful. It was so vastly different from any sunset he had seen in his life, but Merlin couldn't put his finger on what had made it so different. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Merlin felt warmth swell in his chest at the thought of it. The rising sun had changed the landscape to something more welcoming, hopeful, and not quite so lonely.

_Merlin_.

Merlin gasped and looked around. The rest of the knights rode on as if nothing had been said. Arthur and Sir Leon were talking to each other, but Merlin was too far behind to hear anything they said.

_Come, Merlin._

It was coming from somewhere deeper in the forest. He felt a strong urge to follow the voice. He knew he shouldn't, he needed to stay with Arthur.

It would be another hour and a half of silent riding before Gwaine noticed that Merlin was missing and alerted Arthur.


	3. A Call for Help

AN: This chapter comes right after the last. Thanks to all reviewers and my lovely beta sesshouluver!

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><p><em>Merlin! Help!<em>

Merlin ducked under another tree limb. He had ventured far from Arthur and was now beginning to regret his decision.

"Where are you?" he called out, looking around in vain.

Nothing but unfamiliar trees and foliage. The forest was a beautiful, vibrant green on the edge of Autumn, leaves only just beginning to fade to oranges and yellows. The sun winked through sloping green and yellow leaves, having traveled much further in the sky than Merlin would have liked. His horse nickered beneath him, but Merlin nudged him on, so he stepped over the fallen, moss-covered trunk crossing their path. A gentle stream burbled not too far away, littered with rocks and little flying bugs. Merlin dismounted the horse and led him to the water, letting him rest and drink while Merlin considered again his decision to leave Arthur.

How could he have been so rash? Arthur would surely be in a panic now. When Merlin got back, Arthur was going to kill him. Whenever he got back. He should head back. Any minute now. The earth was moist but firm under his horse's careful hooves, and the tracks he left behind were easily discernible. Merlin need only mount his horse and follow them back.

And yet, Merlin could not compel himself to turn back. He felt some strange connection and a deadly curiosity to whoever it was that was calling out to him. Surely this pull he felt was a spell of some kind?

"It's probably a sorcerer distracting me, so they can capture or kill Arthur," Merlin told himself caustically.

He kicked a rock nearby his foot and it skittered into the stream, tumbling a bit in the flow of water before settling behind a larger stone. The horse snorted at that, and Merlin patted his head in concordance.

"Right," he said to the horse, who was being remarkably patient with Merlin, "Off to get ourselves trapped then?"

The bay horse did not reply, but Merlin rather thought that was answer enough, and lead him away from the stream before remounting him and continuing his trek into the forest. He rode for hours, and the sun sank beneath the tree-line behind him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see the ground and trees around them, so Merlin decided to stop and rest. After dismounting, he tied the horse to a tree and took an apple from one of the saddle bags.

"Here, Enbarr," he said, offering it to the bay, "You deserve this."

Merlin stroked the horse's straight, black mane while he chomped upon the apple contentedly, after which Merlin gathered some twigs and branches to start a small fire. A quick twinkle of his eyes and the wood kindled.

As Merlin ate some of the dry rations that had been packed, he wondered what was happening in his absence. The knights had not noticed when he left, but surely they were wondering where he was now. Arthur was really, really going to kill him when they found him! If they found him. Merlin swallowed roughly, the dried meat parching him. He reached for his water bladder.

Would they find him? He was a servant after all. Perhaps he wasn't worth coming after. They were all knights. But then, they would question why he rode off. They were on a patrol looking to ward off danger- they might take his absence as a sign of that. Merlin took a sip of water, feeling the cool liquid run down his throat. But he wasn't in danger, so they would come after him for nothing- if they came.

"Well," he rectified in his thoughts, "maybe I am in danger." He was traveling away from his group, away from Arthur, to help some stranger. It was all rather mysterious, and Merlin still didn't know quite why he was compelled to do so. He couldn't urge himself to turn back either, which he didn't understand, as it wasn't really in his nature to venture into the unknown. He was always by Arthur's side, to protect him (and clean his armor).

Well, so what if he couldn't turn back? All he needed to do was stay where he was. The knights would find him, Arthur would be furiously angry, and he'd be dragged back to Camelot to do loads of chores. The decision would be made for him and this misadventure could be forgotten. Merlin decided that that was a very good course of action and settled down to sleep.

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><p>Sir Gwaine had meant to share a joke that was broiling in his head, so, he had turned to the best joke-sharing companion (especially where the Prince was concerned) of the whole troupe. Said companion was not trailing behind as per usual. The knights had doubled back upon Sir Gwaine's discovery, but it had taken them two hours to reach the spot where Merlin's path had diverged from their own. Arthur was not in the best of moods, to say the least.<p>

Sir Leon galloped toward the Prince, his curly hair mussed and frazzled, though the knight did not seem to be much concerned about it. "Arthur!" he called, "We found tracks!"

In response to Sir Leon, Arthur merely turned his white stallion around to gallop over to the knights gathered around a tributary of horse tracks that branched off from the ones they had left and plunged into the forest. There were no signs of a capture or skirmish here, but perhaps further on…? Arthur urged his horse onward, weary for any signs of bandits or rogues. Gwaine was quick to follow him, feeling some kind of guilt that he had not noticed Merlin's absence sooner as well as an honor-bound duty to find his friend.

They rode on until the sun set. Merlin's trail was easy enough to follow; it would not be difficult to catch up to him the next day. The patrol stopped to set up camp. There was a bit of a scrabble as they tried to figure out who should cook and clean and take care of the horses, but it was eventually decided that Sir Pelleas would cook and that each man would tend his own horse and clean up after himself. Prince Arthur supped in silence, looking out into the shadows which cloaked the trees. Where had Merlin gone? Why hadn't he had said anything?

Arthur made a face, realizing that he was worrying like a girl despite himself. Merlin was probably fine. The idiot had probably been daydreaming, wandered off, and gotten himself lost. Arthur sat next to Gwaine, who had a crease in his brow and an uncharacteristically solemn expression, so Arthur punched him in the arm, hoping to cheer the knight up, and sat down next to him.

Gwaine cracked a grin at Arthur and chuckled, "We're a useless bunch, aren't we?"

"Useless?" countered Arthur, mildly offended, and ready to defend the reputation of his knights.

"How does the clumsiest, noisiest one of us manage to sneak off without us noticing?"

Arthur looked up again, eyes drawn towards the shadows behind the trees and responded without conviction, "Maybe I thought the idiot could follow an order for once."

Gwaine snorted and leaned back, resting his elbows on the log Arthur was sitting on and looking up, exposing his Adam's apple. "You think that's what happened?"

Arthur, contrarily, leaned forward, curling into himself, crossing his arms, "I hope that's what happened."

The two sat in worried, yet companionable silence for the space of a few minutes, breathing in the cold night air before Gwaine chuckled again, "I'm not drunk enough for this."

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><p>Merlin dreamt of sand again. Gleaming, white sand stretching as far as the eye could see. Again, it turned a bright, blood red, and he sank into it all too quickly, but this time something was a bit different. He was buried in the sand, completely immersed, but he kept sinking. Merlin didn't find it difficult to breathe, in fact, he felt quite safe, if a bit lost. The sand flowed around him, fluid and pliant, as if he could swim in it.<p>

_Merlin. _He fell out of the sandy ceiling and hit a hard, stone floor. The world was quiet, cold, and dark. He couldn't see anything, not even his hand in front of his face. Merlin tried to summon fire into his palm to light up the place, but instead, the stone around him began to glow. The light pierced his eyes painfully, and Merlin shut them in reflex. He could see the light through the pink of his eyelids._ Emrys_, a voice called. The voice in his dream was the same as the one that had called him out into the forest! "Who are you?" he called out, his voice resonating around the cave powerfully.

Merlin cracked his eyes open, squinting. He couldn't see anyone. And there was no answer. Merlin was becoming fed up with this. "Hello?"

_We are your kin_.

Merlin sighed and walked through the caves, retorting, "You know, that's what every person who speaks in my head says. You're going to have to be more specific."

There was no response, and Merlin made an unsavory face in frustration. "Great, thanks. You're really very helpful." The cave began to shake, and Merlin scurried to the side, sand raining from the ceiling.

He could hear an ominous rumbling echoing down the tunnels. Great stones began to sift from the ceiling and plummet down. Merlin ran and ducked, calling out defensive spells, but the whole place seemed to be falling apart. _Help us! _demanded the voice. And Merlin awoke.

When Merlin opened his eyes, the sun had not yet risen, but his heart was pounding with excitement. His breath was short, and he could feel the blood coursing in his veins. He felt a gripping urge to continue traveling. He jumped up and looked around. Nothing. "Have you cast a spell on me? Is that why I feel this way?" he shouted.

Enbarr flicked his ears back and pawed the earth a bit. Merlin waited a few seconds in tenseness, before relaxing and going to calm the horse.

Merlin knew that he wouldn't be waiting here. Nor turning back. Even if he hadn't been compelled by the thrumming in his bones to continue, his curiosity might have been enough to drive him on at this point. But if he kept going, he was sure Arthur would keep following him (_if_ Arthur was following him, which Merlin was pretty convinced he was). Merlin didn't want to lead Arthur on fruitlessly into unknown danger. That would be unfair to both the Prince and the knights. And Camelot. Besides, that would make Merlin the worst protector ever.

He would just have to evade them. Problem was, they were professional trackers. Merlin winced as he remembered the time that Arthur and his knights had tracked Merlin back to the Druid camp. He wasn't very good at covering up tracks either. He would get caught in no time. Maybe there was a way to just not make any in the first place?

Merlin briefly considered just riding through the stream, but decided that was a terrible idea. Merlin looked at Enbarr and the bay looked back, calmly. If they didn't touch the ground, they wouldn't leave tracks. Easy. They couldn't fly, though, could they? Merlin often made objects fly through the air, but he had never tried to do so himself. And what of Enbarr?

Merlin held his hand out to the gelding and ordered, "Flíete!" Enbarr gently drifted up a bit and tossed his head, whinnying. Merlin rushed forward, surprised his spell had worked, and tried to calm him down. He nuzzled his head into the horse's neck and murmured kind words, running his fingers though the gelding's mane. Enbarr pawed about in the air. There was some strange purchase for the horse to gain his bearings. He calmed.

Merlin gathered his blanket and packed it back into the saddle bag before mounting the horse and clicking him forward. It was a bit precarious, riding on a floating horse, but Merlin quickly got the hang of it, and the two were off.


	4. The Merry Troupe of Garlot

AN: Thanks to all my reviewers, sorry for the wait! (Special thanks to Beta Sess and Mysterious Gamma.) Sudden OC's! Tell me if you like 'em so far.

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><p>Merlin quickly discovered that riding on a floating horse was not only much more efficient than riding normally, but also a lot more fun. Enbarr galloped over uneven terrain like it was nothing. When they met the river that the stream they were following branched off of, they simply rode over it.<p>

At first, Enbarr shied away from the water. Merlin's heart leapt into his throat as the horse came to a jolting stop, nearly throwing him. But one hoof at a time, Merlin edged him forward until there they were standing flush over the middle of the river. The clear, yet cold water rushed powerfully beneath them, loudly flowing over rock and earth. Merlin noticed with delight that he could feel water splashing them, yet they were unaffected by its movement. With this power, Merlin could ride over the very seas themselves!

It took Merlin a few more days of travel, but he finally reached a well-traveled road stretching North and South. There were many fresh tracks and he could even see someone traveling away from him southwards. Well, this road certainly led someplace important. Merlin had only ever seen roads this wide in Camelot where whole caravans and processions of people could travel. Merlin ducked out of the trees and lead Enbarr onto the road, remembering only at the last moment to lift the enchantment from the horse. Enbarr seemed delighted to have his hooves on the ground again.

They followed the road up the crest of a hill, having before only been presented with a view of trees and horizon. But now, they could look out across the landscape, and it took Merlin's breath away. An impressive town swelled around a powerful ridge. This ridge was higher than all the others around, so that Merlin had to look up to see the crest of it. Beautiful white stone stood atop it, the foundations for what would surely be an incredible castle. The ridge was split on each side by sheer valleys which had been cut over centuries by ocean water.

Yet it was the cliffs by the ridges and valleys that most impressed him. They were an incredible, shining white. The blue of the ocean crashed against the cliffs and he could smell the ocean spray even though he was still about a league from it.

Today, apparently, was market day. Merlin dismounted and led Enbarr into town, where hundreds of booths and stalls and caravans had been set up for buyers and sellers alike. There was shouting and singing and so many people all rushing about. Merlin could see massive ships with billowing sails strung on the docks in the distance. Trade sailors and merchants brought foreign goods and spices to the marketplace. It was overwhelming for the simple country boy, but delightful nonetheless. Merlin had seen Camelot and its marketplace, but Camelot was not a port city. Camelot was nearly as different from this place as it was from Ealdor.

There were so many colors everywhere, too. People tried to sell him linens from some place called Egypt, pots and vases from the Mediterranean, spices from India. Besides all the foreign imports, local farmers and craftsmen tried to sell fresh vegetables and wares. There were even street performers dancing and singing, acting troupes, and side shows. Merlin was briefly reminded of the type of show King Alined's jester and magician Trickler had put on, but Merlin had yet to see any magic. Was it not safe here either?

"Watch yourself, boy!" shouted a deep and hearty voice, and Merlin wasn't sure if it was directed at him until he made eye contact with the speaker, a tall and toned man who looked to be in his thirties, with a neat brunet beard and moustache cropped around his face, almost hiding the wrinkles at the sides of his mouth where he must have spent many years smiling, "Or ye'll find yerself the victim of pick pocketing. It's rampant 'round these parts!"

He gave a grin and a wink and tossed a familiar coin purse at Merlin, which the boy scrambled to catch, but dropped, and had to stoop to pick up.

"Hey!" shouted Merlin indignantly, "How'd you-?" but the man only laughed and tapped the side of his nose, and Merlin found himself smiling in return.

Merlin thought he looked a decent enough man, so he asked the question he was dying to know the answer to: "What kingdom is this?"

"Kent, o' course! Belongin' to King Vortigern," he made a gesture to the top of the hill, upon which stood the white stone foundations to what would surely become a mighty castle, "How could ye not know?"

Merlin blushed and made to retort, "Well, I-" but the clear sound of a gemshorn and trumpet burst through the crowd and the man he was talking to slipped away. Merlin moved forward in the ring that surrounded the open caravan which made a makeshift stage. He could see three men and a woman, one of whom was the man had been talking to, his bright, loose clothing matching those of the other caravaners. As for the other two men (actually, at second glance, they were still boys, perhaps 14 or 15 summers old- just very tall), each had an instrument- the gemshorn and the trumpet. The woman skipped up to the man Merlin had spoken with, bells jangling around her ankles and her feet bare, and danced in circles with him, their forearms clasped together. The music came to a close and the crowd cheered, to which the quartet grinned and bowed (or curtseyed, in the woman's case). The man came forward to talk.

"My good people! We, the Merry Troupe of Garlot, present for yer entertainment, brothers Toly and Iohannes!" he gestured with both hands to the boys, who danced forward, playing their horns and then, in unison, both stopped and bowed. They told jokes and performed a bit of comedy, to which the crowd was greatly amused. Merlin even chuckled at the slapstick humor, for he was reminded of all the times Arthur had thrown things at him.

He felt guilt roiling in his stomach, suddenly. He was here for a reason, wasn't he? To help whoever had summoned him, called for his help. He should take care of it, then return to Arthur.

Merlin didn't notice the brothers closing their act, but a vase was being passed around for the crowd to drop coins into. "Penny for our trouble? Penny for your smile?" Merlin fished out a coin and dropped it into the hat, for politeness' sake. Merlin didn't want to spend any more coin, however, nor did he want to waste any more time, and staying here would surely make him do both.

_Emrys, is it you? _Merlin froze and looked about the crowd. What? What was that? Merlin answered back: _Who's there?_

Next, the man stepped forward and introduced the woman as Lady Elaine. When she stepped forward, Merlin finally got a good look at her. There was a sweet innocence to her face, and though she smiled for the crowd, her eyes were solemn. Merlin thought she might have looked straight at him, but then she was sitting before the crowd, and plucking a lute she had brought out. He became distracted again, as he always was around pretty women.

Lady Elaine sang songs of chivalry and courtly love, sometimes thumping her foot to jangle the bells around her ankle. Merlin thought she was lovely, her long, wavy blonde hair draping down her back and light blue eyes averted downward modestly. Her voice was clear and strong. Merlin realized he was distracted again, and cursed himself. Obviously, the speaker wasn't here or he or she or whatever it was would have come out already, although with this crowded marketplace, he couldn't be sure. He took a step back and nudged Enbarr to leave, but then a voice cut into his head, ringing even over the murmuring crowd around him, _Good morrow, Emrys. Pleasure to see you. I've heard so much about you._

Merlin started and looked around again. This voice had been different than the others he had heard back in the woods. It sounded amused. Merlin's eyes finally settled back on Elaine, and he saw that she was gazing right at him and smiling, still singing sweet notes. "_Car a vous, conpaignete, ay mon cuer einsi doné_. For to you, my sweet beloved, I have thus given my heart."

She paused at the end of the song, and the man walked up and announced, "One last song from our beautiful Lady, if it please you all!"

The crowd cheered at this and the Lady nodded. Her fingers moved to the appropriate position on the neck of her lute, and she began playing a slow, sweet tune.

In the yesteryears of Kings of Old

The ancient King of Garlot

Had three daughters fair

Nú, ic i ágæle þára

sweostor forebícnunge

One was clever yet quite cruel

The second, noble yet naïve

The third was true yet silent

Nú, ic i ágæle þára

sweostor forebícnunge

It was a little difficult to hear all her words, and at first Merlin didn't know quite what to make of the last line, but after hearing her repeat it, he recognized that it was the language of the Old Religion. He roughly translated the line as "Lo, sing I of the sisters' prophecy." Was there magic being woven in the song? Merlin kept listening.

The sisters met a powerful man

A man who lived to aid our land

As foretold in prophecy

Nú, ic i ágæle þára

sweostor forebícnunge

The first did scorn him and revile him

The second, she betrayed him

The third did make him wary

Nú, ic i ágæle þára

sweostor forebícnunge

She warned that those who seek the truth

Must sacrifice naivety

And shear their childhood bliss

Nú, ic i ágæle þára

sweostor forebícnunge

All sisters three were killed by he

Yet all the lands united

For it was destiny

Nú, ic i ágæle þára

sweostor forebícnunge

The song came to a close, and there were murmurs among the crowd, and a smattering of applause. Some of the crowd had dwindled off, but the troupe did not seem to mind. Elaine stood and curtseyed with one hand, the other holding out her lute, then turned and left the stage. The man approached, passing around the hat again and began juggling four or five varicolored sacks probably filled with sand, and grinning brightly.

"Lastly, I am poor Dagonet."

He brought out a bucket and soaked all the sacks in a liquid. Then, with steel and flint, he lit each sack, throwing one in the air while he lit another, and finally juggling all the burning sacks. The crowd gasped. At this point, many of the people who had left returned, and even others walking by were drawn in. He continued juggling and began dancing and doing all sorts of showy gymnastics and tricks, even flipping backward and cart-wheeling. Meanwhile, the brothers tossed more juggling sacks at him and Elaine played a raucous song on her lute. The crowd clapped in time to the music.

When Dagonet had finished his performance, the hat was passed around a third time to choruses of "Penny, penny, for our trouble, for your smile?" Although their audience eventually dispersed, Merlin remained.

He had not merely stood and watched Dagonet's stunts. Rather, he had focused on Elaine, mermaid hair swaying as she danced and played and seemed for all the world to ignore him. But he had heard her, talking in his head. Merlin wanted answers. He led Enbarr towards the stage as the troupe was packing everything up. Toly rushed by, carrying a large chest, but paused when he saw Merlin lingering. "Ey, she ain't comin out, lover boy. The madrigals is over."

His brother, Iohannes, came by from the other direction, carrying two buckets which may have been filled with oil, "The cheap tavern's that-a-way," he jerked his head to the right, and then both brothers disappeared into the caravan. There was a sudden clanging and some muffled shouting before Lady Elaine emerged, an angry energy frazzling about her. But when she turned her clear, blue eyes to him, she seemed to calm, and a genuine smile lit her face.

"Emrys…" she breathed. Elaine seemed content to just stand and look upon him.

Merlin felt a bit out of his territory. He blurted the first question that popped into his mind, "How do you know me?"

"I am observant," she returned.

Before Merlin had the chance to respond, Dagonet strode from the caravan and right up to Merlin. "Sorry about the boys. We've had a bit of trouble with lurkers in the past."

"Oh, it's no-"

"Tea?"

An hour later found Merlin sitting on what might have been a drum in the troupe's cozy caravan, sipping an exotic tea. The boys were off tavern-hopping, not so much to drink as to spread news of the troupe as well as gather news from the loose lips of sailor, soldiers, and fellow merchants. Elaine and Dagonet joined him in conversation. He quickly learned that both of his companions had the ability to perform magic. In fact, Dagonet had heated the tea with just a word, uttered frankly and fearlessly.

Their conversation had started out small, but had come to the point where Merlin became really interested, "So, you're not afraid to do magic?"

Elaine leaned back against the wall, which issued a slight creak, crossing her legs at the ankles, which still had jingling bells strapped around them. The barrel she sat on wobbled slightly. Merlin had to admit that he'd never seen a woman adopt such an un-ladylike position. She responded softly, "I'd say we're all a little afraid, living in such times in Albion- even those who wish not to acknowledge it."

"Ye won't find many practicin' it outdoors, is what she means," replied Dagonet, who was sitting on the floor, one leg straight, one bent, and his arm resting upon it.

"Why not?" asked Merlin, "Isn't it legal here?"

"Sure, it's legal. But that don't make it safe. Not that Elaine and I got much to worry about."

"What's dangerous about it?" Merlin realized that was a silly thing to ask, and corrected himself, "I mean, what's dangerous about using magic here?"

Elaine clasped her hands nervously, "The King is getting desperate."

Objects in the caravan began rattling slightly. Merlin's hand flew down to clutch the rim of the drum, realizing that he had unconsciously tangled them in his neckerchief. Before he knew it, everything was shaking and tumbling. Elaine and Dagonet were already on their feet, securing everything with arms and legs, rushed words and flashing eyes. But the rumbling only got worse. Merlin was afraid they would topple over. His mind glossed quickly over anything that might help, but then he was stuck on the thought that the horse was tied up outside, probably stamping nervously. The horse! If it was alright to use magic, surely he could help these people not to lose their livelihood? Merlin shouted the same words he had some days ago, causing the caravan to float up in the air. The tumult ceased. For them, at least.

Dagonet cracked another grin and let out a sigh of relief, "Thanks for that, mate!"

Elaine, on the other hand, had a strange type of dread on her face, and she hissed, "Why did you have to go and do that?"

Merlin was taken aback by her quick change of tone. It reminded him of Arthur, who was forever scolding him. Had she been Arthur and not a Lady, he may have impulsively bit out, "Well, it helped didn't it?" Unfortunately, he didn't have time to come up with an explanation because there was suddenly a thunderous rapping from the door.

"We are the King's men! We demand a thorough search of this residency and detainment of those who occupy it, by order of the King. Any resistance shall be met with imprisonment and prosecution."


End file.
